


A Realm Apart

by trash_heap



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Queen Kara, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, faerie courting rituals, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-10-25 10:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20722652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_heap/pseuds/trash_heap
Summary: When Luther moves to an isolated cabin in the woods, he expects a quiet content life, away from the hustle and bustle of Detroit. But when a mysterious neighbor keeps leaving care packages of the most amazing food he's ever had, it soon becomes clear that he's in for much more than he bargained for.





	1. A Breath of Fresh Air

Luther is tired. He’s worked his fingers to the bone for years for Kamski, helping him design pretty cars. All that work, all those years, down the drain. The only thing to soften the blow was a (very) cushy severance pay. Luther tried to find more work in Detroit, but everyone wanted to know about the mysterious Kamski, not Luther’s work. Kamski was also on billboards, busses, flyers, just about anything you could pay to slap an ad on. Luther was sick of looking at him. So, he left.

He sold most of his furniture along with his house, packed his clothes and a few sentimental items and left. He didn’t really have family and never had time to make friends, Cyberlife keeping him far too busy. He found a cabin for cheap in the middle of the woods. No noise, no cars, no neighbors, no Kamski. The property came at a bargain price, running almost offgrid. If anything went wrong, he was on his own. The nearest neighbors were ten miles away or more. Perfect.

Unloading his (brand new, purposefully _ not _ Cyberlife) truck was quick. As he closes the last suitcase and shoved it in his closet, Luther can feel himself start to decompress. This is just what he needed. Peace, quiet, and no one who knows him, no one to ask about that damn rat. If he played his cards right, he could likely live off his severance check and the remainder of his savings. He was never one to buy expensive things, so all those large paychecks sat in the bank.

Luther flops onto the bed, old hinges creaking ominously. He turns his face into his pillow and sighs. The clean but musty smell of bedding long since abandoned reminds him of something the former owner had said. 

“My mom met my step-dad out here. She said she was leaving the house to me so they could ‘experience nature’ together, whatever that means. Her only stipulation was that if I sold it, I had to sell it to someone who really needed it, and that the woods needed to be left alone.”

He’d gone on to tell Luther that his mother had kind of disconnected. She and her new husband don’t even have cell phones. They keep in contact through snail mail. They don’t even have an address, just a P.O. box.

“They just show up, sometimes. Almost always when we’ve said we miss them. It’s almost like magic. If she wasn’t so happy, we’d be concerned. But I’ve never seen two people so in love before. They almost glow, as cliche as that sounds.”

Luther had grinned and shaken his head. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in love; he’s seen in plenty of times on people’s faces, plain as day. He just doesn’t understand it, doesn’t understand how someone could change everything at the drop of a hat. Outside, the sin is still high in the sky, but he can feel himself getting drowsy. His eyes are so heavy. A nap wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. After all, what does he have to do?

Outside his window, a tiny humanoid figure claps her hands, wings fluttering.

“Kara will be so excited! He’s perfect!” Her little voice has a strange buzzing sound to it, almost insect-like. Taking one final glance at the snoozing human, she zooms back into the heart of the forest, eager to tell the queen that he’s finally here.


	2. A Welcome Treat

Luther wakes several hours later, the sun much lower in the sky. His head throbs dully and his mind is buzzing. He had odd dreams, nothing solid but a feeling of excitement, anticipation. He could remember bright colors and the buzz of voices all around, but everything began to slip through his thoughts like water. He shakes his head and sits up to turn on the lamp. In the ring of light, there’s a smudge in the thick layer of dust. Almost like a tiny handprint but. That’s not possible. Luther chuckles, putting it down to his lingering dream.

He gives the night stand a swipe with his hand before wiping it on his jeans. _ Gotta clean tomorrow, _ he thinks as he shuffles toward the fridge,  _ dust, sweep, gonna need some firewood, clean the oven and stove top, clean the flue…  _ He trails off that line of thinking when he realizes he forgot to bring any food: the fridge is empty. Luther sighs. This won’t be the first time he went to bed hungry. He really didn’t think this through.

He’s never chopped wood, never lived off grid, never been without TV or wifi, never been camping. He’s a city boy through and through. He’s not even sure where the grocery store is in town. Slumping back to his bed, Luther realizes he didn’t even pack a single book. There’s nothing left to do but shuck down to his boxers and go back to sleep.

When he wakes early the next morning, Luther thinks it’s only because his internal clock is still on company time, but after a moment, it becomes clear that something else woke him up. There’s an odd scratching sound coming from the front door, as if some animal wants to come in. Peering through the front curtains doesn’t reveal any critters or brave neighbors so he flings the door open, ready for an assault. The scratching ends abruptly, and what he can only assume is a welcome basket sits at his feet.

Inside he can see hand pies, fruits and vegetables, jerky, fresh bread, and a pot of honey. This is perplexing, as his nearest neighbors are not within shouting distance. Luther squints into the wood, thinking that a good Samaritan might be hiding, but there are no footprints, tire prints, or any sign of another human being. On cue, his stomach gives an angry rumble and really, what harm could come from accepting some neighborly kindness? Luther brings the basket inside. The moment the door clicks shut, he could swear he hears a tiny giggle. Shifting the curtains only reveals two squirrels chittering and chasing each other up a tree. Luther shakes his head. Cyberlife really took it out of him, if he keeps hearing things. 

After a leisurely breakfast - he’s never had food quite as good as this - Luther gets ready for the day and drives to town. The rest of his morning is spent stocking up on important necessities: toilet paper, food, books, puzzles, a landline phone, a woodcutting axe, and a small box TV from the local thrift store. Along the way he’d spoken to plenty of curious townies, eager to talk to the new city slicker in the old wood cabin. Luther asked around about who might have left the amazing welcome basket (hoping he could pay them for some more goodies), but no one would confess. Luther returned around midday, immediately pulling out some jerky to snack on while he puts the other groceries away and sets up his TV.

The antenna can only pick up the local station which played an eclectic mix of music and news, and one station that seems to run a bit of everything from soaps to old cartoons. The rest of the channels simply produce a static white noise, something Luther thought died out with the newer TV and “channel not available” messages. The white noise would be good for sleeping, he supposed. Luther leans against the counter, munching on a pear as he stares thoughtfully at the landline. The old rotary dial phone had been five bucks, a steal. He knew he should hook it up for emergencies. His phone didn’t get signal this far out. But something stayed his hand. He wasn’t ready to reconnect yet, not even with a landline. 

“The world will still be there tomorrow.” He says, tossing the remnants of the pear in the trash and reaching for the bread and honey in the basket. 

Luther had choked down the jerky he’d found at the store, but it hadn’t had a great flavor. Whatever brand it was, he wouldn’t be buying it again. It tasted like it’d been smoked too much, almost like it was ashes. Rummaging around in the welcome basket again, he can see there was more food than he thought there was. He shrugs. He can live off that for a while, no problem. Then he’ll figure out the rest of his food.


	3. An Invitation

Luther’s mysterious food dealer kept leaving gifts. Once or twice a week, he’d wake up to hear the now familiar scratching at the door. Every time, there would be more food. Sometimes it was in another basket, sometimes just a towel, or some other container. Once, they left him an old coffee tin full of meat pies. The pies were still warm when he picked it up. Through the weeks, he never saw anyone nearby. 

Distantly, he knew he should be suspicious. He shouldn’t have eaten the food in the first place, given that he didn’t know where it had come from. Luther knew somewhere in the back of his mind that something was different about this food. He kept up the pretence of going grocery shopping, buying ingredients for meals he knew he wouldn’t cook. He’d tried soups, casseroles, pies, cakes, roast dinners, and fresh bread but nothing could measure up to his “delivery” food. He’d tried once to hold off on eating it, only eating the pasta he’d made himself until just before bed, he caught a whiff of the sweet cakes that had been dropped off the day before. His mouth had watered, his stomach grumbled, despite the fact that he’d already eaten his fill. It felt like he hadn’t eaten at all, that day. He held out until the next morning, when there was another delivery, this time of his favorite pies. He ate a full pie for breakfast that morning, and sighed in contentment. 

But today, Luther is out of food from his mysterious benefactor. He’d finished the last of the vegetables last night, snacking on huge carrots as he read through a worn out paperback. He’d expected to wake up to more scratching noises, his food left on the doorstep for him, still warm. Instead, he’d woken up to his own stomach grumbling. The porch is empty when he goes outside to check. He stands there for a moment, scratching his head. 

It’s a battle between thinking that it was upsetting and rude that there wasn’t any food left like there had been for the past month, and thinking that logically, he shouldn’t be upset that food from an unknown source has stopped showing up. He knows that he shouldn’t be annoyed, but as he turns back inside, screen door slamming behind him, he can’t help himself. He’d never had anything that tasted that good. All his stress eating junk food couldn’t touch the simple pleasure of that bread and honey, the fruit, the cakes, the -

Luther’s stomach gives another loud grumble and he sighs. It won’t do him any good to get worked up about it. After reheating some tuna casserole, he flops down onto the couch. The springs groan under his weight as he adjusts the pillows to cover the one that stick out. Without really thinking about it, he turns the TV on, watching the white noise channel as he chews. After a few moments, he hears whispering. He pauses, bite halfway to his mouth, staring hard at the TV. It’s faint, so faint that he could barely hear it.

Setting his bowl on the ground and scrambling for the remote, he turns the volume up. The noise is deafening but the whispers are a little clearer. He can make out a few bits and pieces.

“Perfect….fit for...yes, my queen….human...alone….accepted the gifts...right away.”

The voice cuts off and Luther is left with only the roar of static. After listening for a couple minutes more, he turns the TV off. The house is silent, save for the sounds of birds and insects outside. 

“What just happened?” He mutters to himself and rubs his hands over his face. Maybe they put something in that food, and now he’s got weird withdrawal symptoms. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten it to begin with. Maybe not, but Luther knows that if as little as another apple shows up outside his door, he’ll eat it in a heartbeat. 

As if on queue, he hears a familiar, faint noise at the door. The main door is open, leaving only the see-through screen in the way. Luther trips over his own feet in his haste to fling the screen door wide, hoping to finally see who it is. A much smaller basket than usual sits in front of him. He picks it up and plucks the note pinned to the blanket under today’s produce:  _ Dinner at 8? - Kara. _


	4. A Proposition

At 6:15, Luther stops his pacing to stare toward the door, still open from this morning. He’s spent his day restless, unable to focus on books or anything else. The TV had been left on the static channel; he’d been hoping that he might prove to himself that he wasn’t crazy. He didn’t imagine that voice. There was no way. And then the food, and the note. And who is Kara?

Surely Kara is the neighbor who keeps sneaking him that wonderful food. He has to admit, he is curious about her. He wants to ask her how she’s always able to hide so fast, and how she always knows the best time to bring more. At the very least, he should meet her to say thank you, and offer to pay her. Heaving a sigh, Luther heads off to get ready.

By 7:30, it’s started to get dark and he’s starting to rethink his decision to wear nice, but not too nice, clothes. Despite the cool air starting to seep in, he still hasn’t shut the front door. If anyone asked, he’d say it was so that he could enjoy the weather before winter sets in, but in all honesty, he’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of his neighbor early. Luther tugs at the sleeves of his thick sweater and runs a hand over his freshly shaved jaw. Was he doing too much? What was he going to say?

“Ah, yes. Thank you strange lady for feeding me like a helpless fawn these past few weeks.” He says aloud, snorting.

“Well,” says a perky voice from outside, “you’re very welcome!”

Luther jumps and whirls around. It would be almost comical if he didn’t immediately feel like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. Standing just outside his door is a small woman with a messy, blonde pixie cut, a shit-eating grin, and a dress so long it brushes her toes, which, Luther notes, are bare. She’s stunning and he has to blink a few times to assure himself that he’s awake. Shaking himself out of his stupor he crosses the room in two large strides to open the screen door.

“Please, come in. You’re Kara, right?”

She smiles up at him as she squeezes through the doorway, “That’s me. What’s your name, handsome?”

“L-luther.” He stutters out, feeling his face and neck heat up. He takes in her bare arms alongside the bare feet and asks, “Are you, uh, okay? It’s getting cold out. And I noticed you don’t have, uh, shoes.”

“Oh, I don’t usually get cold.” Kara says, standing in the middle of his living room now and looking around, something like wonder in her eyes, “I like feeling the earth on my feet, as close to me as possible.”

“If you’re sure,” Luther says, unconvinced.

She turns those bright eyes on him and he feels pinned to the spot. “Luther, I assure you I’m very comfortable. You, on the other hand, look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Why don’t we chat about what’s bothering you over dinner?”

“Right, let me just grab my keys and I can drive. Or follow you there, whatever.”

“Oh, there’s no need to drive!” Kara says, “It’s quite close. We can walk. Everything is almost ready.”

“I didn’t see another house close by,” He says, frowning. He specifically bought this house because the previous owner said no one lived nearby. 

“I never said we were going to my house.” She says, vaguely. Luther snags the house key on their way out, firmly shutting the door behind him.

The walk is quiet, both of them taking in the woods around them. She’d started them on a path Luther could have sworn was overgrown when he’d tried to wiggle his way into the woods last time. No brambles, stones, or logs stood in their way to hurt Kara’s bare feet. If he didn’t know better, he’d think that the path had been cleared so she could walk freely, but he’d have noticed someone trampling around on his property. Right?

“You know,” Luther starts, trying to make conversation and get out of his own head, “I didn’t realize that nature could be so...noisy. There’s always something making noise: the trees in the wind, a squirrel, birds singing, insects. I’ve seen lots of wildlife running around. Haven’t had any issue with them, so far. But I could swear they’re watching me. That’s crazy, isn’t it?”

Kara turns her head just slightly to catch his eye as she leads them down a fork in the road, “I don’t think it’s crazy at all.”

He waits for her to elaborate, but when nothing further follows, he falls back into silence. When he thinks about it, it’s not really awkward. He’s used to awkward or tense silences at work, always something weighing on his shoulders. Here, he feels light. There’s nothing to worry about. No one to report to. No deadlines to meet. He feels himself smile just as they finally step into a clearing.

All around, the trees are littered with small Christmas lights, and large paper lanterns hang above them, strung from one side of the clearing to the other. There are two tables, low to the ground, a crackling fire close by. At one table, a veritable feast: smoked meats, fresh bread, roasted vegetables, fruit pies, cakes, cream, several pitchers of variously colored drinks. The second table sits on the other side, cushions all the way around, places set for two. Luther feels his breath catch. No one had ever done anything like this for him. Swallowing around the lump forming in his throat and willing himself not to cry, he turns to see Kara smiling softly up at him.

“Kara,” he breathes, at a loss. When she holds her hand out, he takes it immediately, allowing himself to be led to the largest cushion furthest from the table of food.

“Now,” she says, reaching for his plate as she settles across from him, “what would you like to try first?”

Luther is a little dumbfounded, honestly. He says as much and Kara laughs. He watches as she adds a little bit of everything savory to his plate, just a taste of it all. She places in back in front of him and immediately pours him a large cup of a frothy, pink mixture that smells, somehow, of flowers on a spring morning. 

“This all looks amazing, Kara. Did you cook it all yourself?” His mouth is watering as he waits for her to fix her own plate before eating.

“Of course!” She pours her own drink, green with the smell of fresh rain, “It’s for you, Luther. I wouldn’t ask someone else to make it. You seemed to love all my other dishes. I thought it was time we met.”

“So, it  _ was _ you leaving all the food. You’re right; I loved everything.” He takes a bite with as many different things as will fit on his fork, groaning. It’s somehow even better than anything else so far.

Kara is slowly working her way through her own food, “I’m glad you enjoy it. I’m sorry I didn’t deliver the packages face to face. I was a little shy.”

“That reminds me,” he blurts, hastily swallowing his mouthful, “how did you hide so fast? Every time I opened the door, there was no one there, even though I’d just heard them.”

She smiles, taking a sip of her drink. “Ah, well. An old magic trick. I’ll have to show you, some time.”

For a moment he’s silent, blinking at her, and then he laughs loud and boisterous. He hasn’t laughed like this in years. “Alright, in any case. Thank you, Kara. You didn’t have to feed a hermit like me, but I really appreciated it. I looked forward to your care packages every week.”

He watches a pink flush spread across her face, ears, neck, and down her chest. “I’m flattered, truly. It’s been some time since I’ve cooked for someone.”

They fall silent again while they eat. Luther tries to slow down and savor, but he feels as if he needs to have some of everything. Once he’s polished off his plate, he tries to stand up, wanting to try out some of the desserts.

“Wait!” Kara blurts out, quickly rising, “What do you need? I’m happy to serve you.”

“You’ve done so much for me, Kara. You don’t need to serve me.” He settles back down and leans forward on the table. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. I’d like to repay you, for all the amazing food.”

She doesn’t answer right away, opting instead to take Luther’s plate and fill it with sweets. Once she’s settled across from him again after refilling their drinks, this time a blue and a clear with smells that he can’t quite place, she sighs. As wonderful as his plate smells, we waits, wanting to hear what Kara has to say.

“If you want to repay me,” she whispers, not quite meeting his eyes, “I would enjoy your company as often as you’ll allow.”

“Are all our dates going to be like this?” Immediately, regret washes over him. “I’m sorry! I know this isn’t a date and-”

“It is a date.” Kara reassures him, looking smug, “I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.”

“Oh.” He says, intelligently, “You want to date me?”

“I would like to spend time with you, enjoy meals with you, get to know you. If that is dating, then yes. I would propose dates as payment.”

“There’s nothing else you want?”

She looks thoughtful, “Do you have anything else you’d like to give?”

_ A kiss _ , he thinks but shakes his head. He’s already in too deep and it hasn’t even been a day. There’s something about her that makes him feel at home, and for once, he doesn’t want to be logical about it.

“Then, your company is enough.” Kara grins wickedly at him over the rim of her cup, “For now.”


	5. A Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't quite a thousand words, but I'm hoping the next one will be a little longer, as I'm about to dip into the bits I've been excited to write since I started this au months ago.

Over the next month, Kara stops by in the afternoons almost daily. Sometimes they stay at the cabin, others they go back to the clearing or walk through the woods. Kara is enamoured with the old reruns of I Love Lucy, which always seem to be on whenever she’s around, even if that’s not what’s usually programed. Other times when they stay indoors, especially on rainy days, Luther will read aloud. They’ve started to work their way through _ The Hobbit _ . Luther loves to do the voices, just to watch Kara’s eyes light up as he does a new one. He can’t wait to voice Smaug. If he had to choose, he’d say the forest walks are his favorite way to spend an afternoon. Kara has taken to showing him different plants and trees and explaining what they are, and how they can be used. She’s familiarized him with what animals are in these woods, teaching him to track, just for fun. 

“How do you know all this stuff?” Luther asks her as he hands off the wicker basket she’d brought to gather mushrooms. 

“I’ve lived in the woods for a long time. You pick things up.” Kara says, focusing her attention on the fungi. “The forest talks to you, if you know how to listen.”

Luther has noticed that Kara talks like this often, as if nature and animals could communicate clearly. As if the plant life around them was sentient. Sometimes, birds would land near her. They’d chirp, and Luther could swear they’d bow at her before flying off again. Squirrels seemed to pause their scampering when she passed. More than once, they’d passed a deer who simply watched as they passed rather than running away. 

“Kara,” Luther watches as a chipmunk approaches and sits, watching them. “Have you noticed any weird things about the woods here?”

“What do you mean?” She straightens from her crouch, wrapping her haul in a cloth.

“The animals are never this...friendly with me anywhere else. Back in Detroit, I once got attacked by a racoon because it wanted my hamburgers. But here, I don’t know. It’s weird but it’s like you know how to commune with nature or something. I’m just crazy, right?”

He laughs nervously and rubs at the back of his head while Kara gives him a considering look. She narrows her eyes and cocks her head. Luther feels like he’s being examined, sized up. For some reason, he feels that if he were found wanting, it would crush him. He’s felt this undercurrent of something he can’t identify when he’s with Kara. It’s nothing he’s known before, but if it was severed, he’s not sure he could recover. 

“Luther, may I show you something?” Kara’s eyes are still thin, still considering. Luther finds himself gulping at how abruptly serious she is.

“I - yeah? Sure, but I think it’s supposed to rain soon. We don’t want to be caught in it.”

Without a further word, she takes his hand in hers, his pulse jumping when she interlaces their fingers. With a tug, Luther follows her down a side path that he doesn’t remember being there on their other walks, or even a few moments ago. Instead of following like that first night, she steers him to walk beside her, not letting go of his hand. The canopy above them steadily grows denser the further they walk, blotting out the setting sun. Bird song and insect noises seem muted this deep into the wood, as if sound doesn’t quite penetrate. Luther looks around as they walk, taking in the unusual flowers and plants that bloom here, unseen elsewhere around his cabin. Kara takes a right turn, pulling him along to a dead end trail, only a log visible in the dim light.

“Kara, what are we -”

“Do you believe in magic, Luther?”

For a moment he only blinks at her. A few weeks ago, he would have said no, he absolutely does not believe in magic. Magic is reserved for stories and kids’ games. But there’s been a nagging feeling in the back of his mind ever since he got here that there’s something different, something special about it. That feeling only grows stronger when Kara is around. “I think I might be beginning to.”

She grins, plopping down onto the fallen log as thunder rolls in the distance, “Would you like to be convinced?”

“Yes, but the storm -”

“The storm won’t reach us here unless we want it to.” She says, patting the log, “Come, let me show you something.”

Luther carefully takes a seat next to her as she reaches down to scoop up a handful of mud. She sits up, dripping dirt onto her dress and she begins to mold it like clay. Faster than he’d thought possible, Luther can see recognizable shapes forming: a head, a beak, wings, feet. Kara holds the model bird out to him in her palm. He reaches for it, but she pulls back.

“No, no! She’s not done. Watch!”

Cupping the bird in both hands, she uses her thumbs to smooth its beak apart. Kara brings it close to face, closes her eyes, and blows a deep breath straight into its open mouth. The effect is immediate. The model shivers in her palm, mud flying off as soft wings take its place. Luther’s breath catches in his throat as he watches the new bird blink its eyes and lean in to rub its head on Kara’s nose before flapping off into the trees and out of sight.

Luther stares after it, mouth open as Kara wipes her hands off on her skirt. They’re silent for a long moment, before he can unstick his jaw. “You just made a bird out of dirt.”

“I did.”

“A real bird.”

“Yes.”

“Like, living, breathing, worm eating bird.”

“Correct.”

He turns to look at her bemused expression and breathes, “What the  _ fuck _ ?” 


End file.
